


And Nothing Hurt

by Anonymous



Category: The Boognish, Ween (Band), Ween (Musical Group), Ween - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, M/M, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, bandom lore, creation story, ween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:21:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The birth of a new era, Ween.
Relationships: The Boognish/Dean Ween/Gene Ween, The Boognish/Gene Ween, the Boognish/Dean Ween
Collections: Anonymous





	And Nothing Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> You’re welcome

“Do you think God stays in Heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he’s created? Here on Earth?”

\- Steve Bescemi,  _ Spy Kids 2 _

  
  


The Boognish, stomach heavy with child, was looking for its mates.

It had coupled many moons ago with a pair of men, back when it was outside of the orbital buffer. Thrice it laid with them and thrice it left, for The Boognish was forever a wanderer, cursed even in the depths of pregnancy to go forth and seek out its future prophets, and in turn to seek enlightenment for the sake of humanity. 

But before it left on its journey for enlightenment, the Boognish gave its child’s sires parting gifts, of hope and as a form of dowry, to ensure the success of its future pack. To Dean, its supple Butthole Surfer with eyes of blazoned hazel, it gifted its scepter of wealth, for the wealth of love and sensual experimentation in the realms of lovemaking that Dean had gifted unto The Boognish. To Gene, its moody Ocean Man, it gifted its scepter of power, in exchange for the power that his seed ultimately gifted The Boognish. The power of a spawning, a child to be birthed into the new century and bring upon humanity an enlightenment unlike any other. A power that, for decades, lay dormant and heavy, a constant weight upon the stomach of The Boognish. A power that, even as a child, knew that it was premature in its cultivation. A power that now, soon, was to awaken when the world needed it, this child, this Age of Enlightenment, most.

So The Boognish moved through the mortal realms, resting amongst the catacombs of the metropolises of mankind and walking, unseen but by the few Faithful, through the harrowed lands of America. It yearned, a sharp, painful thing, for its lovers, but knew in its deepest heart that it could not be reunited. Not while they spread The Word, not while it waited for the Moment when the birthing of their child would commence.

So The Boognish wandered through the depths of humanity and waited, so patiently, for the moment when its child would come.

  
  


And then one day, in the depths of the undergrounds of a Midwestern cityscape, The Boognish was forced to stop its timeless hauntings. For it was time. 

It called, a stringent, piercing cry, for its other halves to come, reunite, and bask. For as the liquid puddled at The Boognish’s ankles, its water having broken after many years of dormancy, it became aware of the truth of the hour: that the hour was neigh. Soon, finally, its child would crown through its throbbing nether regions to enter into the realms of man. Soon, finally, its lovers, its mates, its undying disciples, would come back to coddle once more at its breast. To once more find comfort in the folds and crevices of The Boognish’s body. To once more create a union so perfect that God himself had forbade its existence, for fear of the dismemberment of the Old Church that such unabashed love and unity would create. 

Yet Unite they had. For what could keep apart three thirds of a soul? Nothing. 

And so in unity, in the throes of passion, they, in their sweaty and slipping frenzy, saw the name of their unity, their True Whole, their True Form, before God cast them astray. The name,  **Ween** , became not only the name of their form but the name for their following. It became a calling card for their love, the unabashed ecstasy, and their most unholy of matrimonies. 

And too, in turn, the name Ween would become the name of their lovechild. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this then I guess I’ll be seeing you in hell.


End file.
